Chapter 10, Slap Back To Reality

His eyes slowly arose from its slumber when instantaneous pain sparked within his left eye which was gouged out.

"FUCK, ARGHH IT HURTS SO MUCH" Kefir almost shrieked, close to biting his tongue off as he rolled around in agony.

His cranium felt the most suffocating sensation in its life with his nerves shooting out electric signals to his brain. Alerting the body was at the risk of death that so dearly embraced his body like a loving parent.

If only he had painkillers or any sort of remedy that could relieve him of his pain— his thoughts at this surge of pain kept him glancing at the revolver in his holster, wishing to end the pain once and for all.

Focusing on such stupor, the voice in the depths of his body spoke in worry, 'Papa! Snap out of it! Please don't die… don't leave me alone…' it spoke from worry alongside the hints of fear.

The barking of the voice verberated in his body as the sound bounced off every single part of his flesh till it rang immensely upon his very soul.

This was a idiotic act Kefir committed in the heat of the moment; slamming his forehead upon the soil in strong conviction of rage. Not to anyone but to himself for showing such a pathetic side, even if no one was here to view the show.

Kefir solemnly looked down on his left arm that was crisped to darkness from the fire from the earlier engagement while pushing back the constant beating pain from his empty eye-socket and other parts of his body; all bandaged up from his cloth.

Lifting himself with the assistance of his right arm paired to the silver bell he laid on. He slowly got up, not averting his eyes or well, "eye" towards the entity hanging in the looming crimson sky.

"I guess we both now share one common similarity." Kefir forced a smirk to the entity before conversing back with the voice.

"Thanks… buddy for knocking some sense into me" he whispered in a meek tone, almost tilting his cap onto his face. However he realized he used it as a distraction in the previous floor which further reinforced his embarrassment.

Stockholm Syndrome, was this what he felt in the odd situation to the voice that kept him alive but also the same thing that would one day dissolve him into a corpse? Who knows.

'Aww no problemo! Papa, glad to help! But we must get going before another evil thing happens!!'The voice roared in urgency added to the playfulness.

"Yeah, let's get g-going" Kefir replied, flinching occasionally from the shots of torturous cramps he kept shoving down, enduring it. Oh he wished there were painkillers nearby.

Stumbling usually from the bruise on his ankle, snapped by one of the shadowy bastards. He made his way onwards through the gate where a sign labeled next to it— wrote, "Welcome."

Averting his eyes as his breathing staggered, the words were odd however he was too bothered to think much about it.

…